


we'll be lovers cause it's our true colour

by iwillbeyourgoal



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (Slightly), Big Gay Freak Out, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillbeyourgoal/pseuds/iwillbeyourgoal
Summary: On the surface, he could tell himself that he was just practicing his thieving – but if that were true, why not steal something from Yusuke or Makoto or Futaba? Why Akira?Why was it always Akira?(ryuji can't deal with his feelings so he steals things)





	we'll be lovers cause it's our true colour

Ryuji justified it as Phantom Thief training.

Admittedly, he thought as he planted his face in the soft black fabric and inhaled deeply, it was a pretty flimsy excuse. But still.

It had started out innocently enough. In the blissful peace in between palaces, Ryuji had been hanging out with Akira in the café attic, eating curry, playing Super Smash Brothers and arguing about whether Meta Knight (Akira) could beat Pikachu (Ryuji) in a real life fight. It had gotten somewhat heated, and Ryuji may or may not have spilled curry all down the front of his shirt in anger.

“Ah, shit,” he said, looking down and frowning. “I hope this can come out. I dunno if we can afford more clothes.”

Akira set his controller down and rose from his seat. “Hold on,” he said, rummaging through a box.

“What’re you doin’?”

“I _said_ hold on.”

“Hmph. Anyway, like I was saying, Pikachu could totally kick Meta Knight’s ass all up and down Central Street, you just don’t wanna admit it.”

“I’m not admitting it because it’s not true,” Akira said, and suddenly Ryuji felt something soft fall on his arm. Looking at it, he frowned a bit. It was one of Akira’s shirts (or maybe his only shirt? Ryuji was never sure if he just wore the same outfit over and over or if he had variations on a theme.)

“Wear that,” Akira said, resuming his spot next to Ryuji, eyes back on the screen.

“Wear – huh?” Ryuji’s brow furrowed, holding the thin black cotton in his hands.

“Just change into one of my shirts,” he said, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal. We can throw your shirt in the sink and try and get the stain out.”

Ryuji didn’t know why he was fixating on this – Akira was right, it really _wasn’t_ a big deal. They were pretty much the same size. This would save him from going home with a huge, strong-smelling stain covering his torso. He was overthinking ­– overthinking _what_ , exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that he was.

So that was how he ended up with one of Akira’s shirts.

And now, a month or so later, it was in his bed.

Covering his pillow.

He liked the smell, okay, it wasn’t anything weird. Akira always smelled like a combination of rich coffee (which Ryuji hated to drink but loved to smell), the spices that went into Boss’s curry, and something clean, like linen or soap. The individual components had faded a bit, but that was alright – now it was just an amalgamation of scents, none quite identifiable but all distinctly Akira.

And that had just been the start of it. Like he said ­– Phantom Thief training, right? If he could steal something from his best friend’s room without him noticing, he could probably sneak past Shadows or grab a treasure with minimal problems as well.

He grabbed a few small things over the course of about seven weeks. A pen from the cup on his desk, a book that he never intended on reading, a half-used notepad emblazoned with the logo from what looked to be Akira’s old school.

A certain sense of accomplishment always accompanied Ryuji when he managed to pull it off (which, to be fair, had been every time) but he also felt somewhat… off. On the surface, he could tell himself that he was just practicing his thieving – but if that were true, why not steal something from Yusuke or Makoto or Futaba? Why Akira?

Why was it always Akira?

This hung over his head as he exited the Yongen-Jaya station and headed towards Leblanc. He and Akira were going to watch soccer and probably play some video games, and normally Ryuji would be all for that kind of hangout, without any reservation. But today was different. His emotions were swirling inside him, dark and light, and it was absolutely not something he was used to. Ryuji Sakamoto, while a lot of things, did not think of himself complicated, something he usually prided himself on.

But he could barely grasp the feelings and thoughts he was experiencing as he passed through Yongen’s narrow alleys, turning by the recycling store and onto Leblanc’s street. The red overhang warmed his heart – even though Akira had only been in Tokyo for a few months, Ryuji still thought of the boy’s home/part-time job/temporary Phantom Thieves hideout as a second home. He loved the creaking wood, the way the windows opened so the sound of birds chirping and rain pouring echoed throughout the attic. He loved the smells of coffee beans and curry spices intermingling. He just… loved being there.

He stopped in his tracks a few steps before the café’s entrance and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as his hand reached into his jacket pocket and fiddled with the pen he’d stolen that he carried with him. What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking things like –

A small jingle jolted him out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Boss opening the door, holding a small watering can.

“Oh, Sakamoto,” the older man said, raising his free hand in a small wave as he moved outside to water the plants in front of the store. “Hey. Forgot that Akira mentioned you were coming over today.”

“H—hi, Boss,” Ryuji stuttered, his eyes immediately drawn to the ground. “Ah, yeah, we’re just gonna… hang out.”

“Mm,” Sojiro grunted, continuing to water the plants. Then, after a moment, “He’s out right now, buying some groceries. He just left but he’ll be back in a bit.”

Ryuji’s heart sunk slightly – but he couldn’t figure out why. He’d be back soon, right? What was the big deal?

“Oh! Oh. Okay. Uhm. I’ll just wait inside, I guess?”

“Hold on,” Boss said, setting the watering can down beside the door and straightening up, holding eye contact with Ryuji. “Before you do, I’d like to talk to you for a moment out here.”

Ryuji blinked. “Did I do somethin’? Am I… in trouble?”

Boss’s snickering laughter did little to assuage his worry, but the (somewhat) kind look in the man’s eyes did. “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanna talk to you about… well, you. And Akira.”

Okay, the worry was back, throbbing through Ryuji’s body like a bad bruise. What about them? What about _him_? What was Boss talking about?

“Huh?” was all he could come up with for a response.

“Listen, I get it,” Boss started, his hands coming to rest on his hips, and Ryuji thought fleetingly that despite only having been a parent for a few years, the man was surprisingly good at doing the Let’s Have A Talk pose. “You’re both young. That, in and of itself, isn’t a sin.”

Ryuji blinked, saying nothing.

“What _is_ , however, is leading someone on when you have no interest in following through,” Boss said sternly, and Ryuji felt every bodily function halt as he attempted to process those words.

“I’m – listen, Boss, I’m sorry, but I have no effin’ idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he said, his throat strained.

“I have a hard time believing that, Sakamoto,” Boss said, quirking an eyebrow. “At this point it’d take a veritable idiot to not see it.”

“See _what_?!” Ryuji exploded, his frustration and confusion boiling over.

“How much Akira cares about you!” Boss said, throwing his arms up. “Kid, you’re all he talks about practically. You’ve got all these girls in your little friend group, any of whom he’d be lucky to date, but he just wants to be their friend. Sure, he talks about them a lot, talks about all of you, but _you_ —” he pointed a finger at Ryuji. “ _You_ are that kid’s sun. He loves spending time around you. He can’t wait for you to come over. Hell, I practically know your whole life story from how much he’s mentioned, just when he’s cooking or cleaning up or just sitting there, eating breakfast. I’ve never seen a more lovesick teenager.”

Ryuji’s mind had gone blank at that last sentence, and Boss sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re really that dense, huh?” he said, but it had a distinct inflection of caring. “Sakamoto. Talk to him. Go up to his room, and wait, and when he gets here, I’ll send him your way. Just _talk to him_. You… you both deserve to be happy, if that’s what you want.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Ryuji said, his mouth finally catching up to his brain. “But I’m – I don’t even know if I’m g – if I’m like that!”

Boss snorted, already turning to head back into Leblanc. “Way I see it, doesn’t matter if you are or not. Matters if you love this kid. Everything else can sort itself out after.”

He nodded towards the inside of the café as he held the door open. “So. D’you wanna come in?”

Ryuji found himself nodding before he realized he was doing it, and suddenly his feet were carrying himself inside one of the only places on Earth he felt safe.

“Good luck,” Sojiro said, smirking as he returned to his place behind the counter. Ryuji didn’t respond, just headed up the stairs, his stomach tying itself in knots.

He sat on the chair in front of Akira’s TV – the couch felt a little too casual, and _forget_ about the bed. So he just sat there, nervously scrolling through his phone, compulsively switching apps every 30 seconds.

 _Am I gay?_ he asked himself after he’d gotten tired of his phone.

 _No way,_ he replied. _If I was I’d have had a crush on a dude before now._

 _But it’s like Mona’s always sayin’,_ he argued. _Akira’s special. And, y’know, there are other things to be than gay. I could be… whatever, bi or any of the other ones. ‘Cause I still like girls._

_Definitely still like girls._

_But… maybe I like Akira, too._

He sighed, letting his head drop into his hands.

Suddenly, his head snapping up, he heard the door to the café open, and Boss say, a little loudly, “Hey, Akira. Just put the groceries on the counter. Your friend’s upstairs.”

Akira said something that Ryuji couldn’t hear, and after a moment, footsteps started approaching the attic.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit,” Ryuji muttered, his eyes screwed shut and his hand fiddling with the pen in his pocket again.

“Hey, man,” Akira said. “You okay?”

He opened his eyes, and there his best friend was. He looked the same as he always did – same fluffy black hair, ridiculously cool fake glasses, Shujin uniform looking more fashionable on him than it did on any other student at their school.

But now, as dumb and cliché as Ryuji thought it seemed, he was seeing him completely differently. Everything worked together so well, and it was _exactly_ what Ryuji was into. Why did he never see it? Why didn’t he ever realize that this person was the only one in the whole world beside his mother who made Ryuji feel loved, feel safe and calm? The storm that seemed to be constantly raging inside him only slowed when he was around Akira. That was why he stole his stuff. That was why he was at Leblanc so much.

Of _course_ he was in love with him.

Realizing he’d gone a moment without saying anything, he shook his head and smiled. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m great.”

“Cool,” Akira said, sitting in the chair beside him and booting up his console. “Ready to get your ass beat in Smash again?”

“Ah, actually, can I talk to you for a sec before that?” His heart was pounding, but Boss was right. This needed to be done.

“Sure,” Akira said in that suddenly solemn way he had.

Ryuji took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was scared of talking – hell, talking was practically all he did usually. It was that he was scared of saying the wrong thing.

“Listen, uh, the last few months that you’ve been here… They’ve been, like, the best months of my life,” he started, carefully watching Akira’s eyes. “Uhm. I told ya about my dad, how he walked out on us, and my mom’s always workin’. So… home doesn’t really feel like home a lot of the time, y’know?”

Akira nodded silently.

“And when we started hangin’ out, I thought that Leblanc felt like home. I thought… I thought that it was just this place, that I liked being here. But it’s not just the café, dude.”

He paused for a moment to collect his bravery, and while he did, Akira asked quietly, “What is it, then?”

Brown eyes met grey and Ryuji allowed himself a small smile. “’s you, dumbass. You’re home. And I, uh… I didn’t realize it until just lately.”

Akira’s expression was unreadable for a moment and Ryuji began to panic, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing, but then: “Ryuji Sakamoto. Are you telling me you have a crush on me?”

“Well if you’re gonna make me _say_ it,” Ryuji exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. I like you. Kind of a lot. I think I have for a real long time now.”

Akira grinned, turning his chair slightly towards Ryuji’s. “That’s convenient,” he said, leaning in slightly. “I like you, too. Pretty much since we first met. Nice of you to catch up though.”

Ryuji’s heart was pounding so loudly that the blood rushing through his ears was nearly deafening, but he found himself leaning toward Akira, too.

That is, until he remembered something.

“Oh!” he said, pulling back and reaching his hand into his jacket pocket. “I, uh. I took this pen from you. You can have it back. I… I liked havin’ something of yours.”

Akira’s brow furrowed. “Well, thanks, but you already had something of mine.”

 _How does he know about the other stuff_? Ryuji wondered, but asked, “Whaddya mean?”

Akira grasped his chest dramatically and grinned. “ _My heart_.”

Ryuji blinked. “Jesus. Christ.”

“Get used to it,” Akira said, smirking. “I’m a cheesy motherfucker.”

“Just kiss me, damn it,” Ryuji said, and Akira happily obliged.

They spent the next few hours talking about everything and nothing, their conversations punctuated by fevered makeout sessions on the sofa. They agreed to take it slow – that is, until neither of them could take it anymore.

Akira made curry for them when their stomachs began growling too loudly for either of them to bear and they ate at the counter, their chairs close together so their legs could touch.

“This tastes different,” Ryuji commented, mouth full. “But good different.”

“The secret ingredient is love,” Akira said. “If love tastes like cinnamon.”

“It does now.”

Ryuji looked regretfully at the time on his phone as he crossed behind the counter to place his empty plate into the sink.

“Ugh, the trains’re gonna close soon. I gotta get home if my mom’s not gonna freak out about me.”

“Okay,” Akira said, smiling and standing. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Kurusu,” Ryuji said, smirking. “You’re gonna have a damn hard time gettin’ rid of me now, y’know.”

“Good,” Akira said, following him and leaning in against Ryuji, pinning him against the refrigerator. He leaned in and kissed the blonde languidly, already figuring out what the boy liked and didn’t like. “By the way,” he whispered against his lips. “You can keep the pen.”

Ryuji snorted and shoved his boyfriend off him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Akira.”

“See you, Ryuji.”

**Author's Note:**

> my first p5 fic!!! i love this game SO. DAMN. MUCH. and i wish akira could romance ryuji more than anything else in the entire world but as my good friend mick jagger once said You Can't Always Get What You Want, so i wrote it instead. 
> 
> yell abt p5 with me on tumblr: fuutabaa.tumblr.com


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